


anaphora

by consumptive_sphinx



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 00:32:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13446702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consumptive_sphinx/pseuds/consumptive_sphinx
Summary: Here is the thing about grand cosmic plans laid out in song: they aredifficultto follow, no matter how painstakingly you follow the steps, no matter how carefully you choreograph your every action.Here is the thing about young godling craftsmen: you can teach them to form mountain ranges with the sheer force of their will, or you can hover over their shoulder and watch every stroke of their hammer; you cannot have both.Here is the thing about admiration: his name is Admired, but nobody ever said who would admire him.





	anaphora

Once upon a time in paradise there was a godling smith named Mairon, which in the language of the elves meant Admired.

Once upon a time in paradise there was a child who had too many eyes on him and not enough all at once; too many people trying to shape him and nearly none who saw him.

Once upon a time in paradise there was a young man who was expected to grow taller than mountains but given no space to grow into.

Once upon a time in paradise there was a strange dark god called Melkor, who had stories of his own to tell, which brightling smith-gods were not to listen to.

Once upon a time in paradise there were gods who did not understand the people they were ruling, and people who preferred not to be ruled.

Once upon a time in paradise there was a script sung into the universe; it read that some would be good, and others evil, and any attempt to break from the script was already written into the script, and there was simply nothing that anyone could do.

(Once upon a time in paradise there was, there was, there was. You know the story of a fall from grace by now, don’t you?)

 

~xxx~

 

What Manwë king of the gods thought of it was this: it was of course the fault of Melkor. All things were, at their heart. They should have seen how he was stealing their students away, should have anticipated he would turn on them, long before they did. And they should have seen that Mairon was tempted, that Mairon was _weak_ to temptation, long before they did.

What Aulë god of the forge thought of it was this: his student is gone; his son is gone. It is his fault if it is anyone’s. What more do you want from him?

What Eonwë brother of Mairon thought of it was this: Mairon stopped coming home at night, started slipping away from events and started to slip away from his former friends. Eonwë should have known something was wrong, should have seen, but whenever he asked Mairon what was going on it was always just a moment too late for Mairon to hear him, always just a moment too early for Mairon to have an answer; and so he was brushed off every time, and had no idea of what was happening until one day, Mairon was simply gone.

What Melkor god of entropy thought of it was this: the boy listened, and so Melkor spoke, and if Aulë wanted to keep him close he should have kept him close _better._

(And nobody ever thought to ask Mairon himself, but what he thought of it was this: Aulë offered him a place in a forge he could never truly leave and expectations he could never truly cast off, and Melkor offered him freedom and the space to grow. He chose the better option, and he is not evil for it.)

 

~xxx~

 

Here is the thing about grand cosmic plans laid out in song: they are _difficult_ to follow, no matter how painstakingly you follow the steps, no matter how carefully you choreograph your every action.

Here is the thing about young godling craftsmen: you can teach them to form mountain ranges with the sheer force of their will, or you can hover over their shoulder and watch every stroke of their hammer; you cannot have both.

Here is the thing about admiration: his name is _Admired,_ but nobody ever said _who_ would admire him.

Here is the thing about Mairon: he had always longed to be let loose on the world. If they had looked, they would have seen it long before they did.

Here is the thing about defiance: breaking shit is _fun,_ when you don’t have to care where the pieces fall.

(And here is the thing about prophecies: if you could live your life to fit the beats of a story that is already long told, or you could try to burn the script and start anew - wouldn’t you choose to burn it too?)


End file.
